


Kindly Stop for Me

by MembraneLabs



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MembraneLabs/pseuds/MembraneLabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He knows he's young, but he's not so young to think that people don't die."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindly Stop for Me

He knows he's young, but he's not so young to think that people don't die.

His father died at Ypres, after all; victim of the German's poison gas. His mother died of the Spanish influenza; she was taken quickly and violently. He has seen men, friends, succumb to illness and injury. He's seen children die of sickness and starvation. He's a journalist, after all. He's seen this world, the wonderful and the awful. People die all the time, for Death stops for no person. The people who have touched his life are no different.

Tintin sits up in the hard, uncomfortable chair. His body protests the movement almost as much as it protests sitting still. The Captain is lying unmoving on a cool, clean foreign hospital bed. The nurses clucked at Tintin's young face and Snowy's mournful look, but looked the other way. And so in the silence of the hospital at night Tintin sits vigil by the Captain's side.

The Captain will not die tonight.

Tintin's leg bounces in his seat—not from worry, no, never, because the Captain will be FINE. He is an old sea dog that has survived far worse, regardless of the way the doctor 'hmm'ed grimly after examining the Captain's unconscious frame. The Captain has a skull too thick and hard, no matter how hard that beam hit the back of his head as he pushed Tintin out of the way. He's got bones too strong and skin too tough, no matter how much of the explosion's debris crushed him as he protected Tintin from the blast.

Tintin's back twinges—he's not entirely unscathed himself. He and the Captain will have war wounds to compare once he wakes.  
Which he will. Of COURSE he will.

An rare curse escapes his lips as his breath catches in his throat. He presses his fingers to the hot hollows of his eyes to relieve the burning. He blames his bruised ribs. He'd moved too suddenly. That was all.

He takes a deep breath, and another. He tells himself it's to calm the spasms of bruised muscles.

The night drags on. Rastapopoulus is probably countries away by now. Tintin is disappointed, but not defeated. Like muck Rastapopoulus will rise again to the top, their paths with cross, and he and the Captain will be there to stop him.

So Tintin is not WORRIED, because the Captain will rest and heal and the next time they'll be ready for him.

Tintin jerks awake when his torso falls too far to the side—he'd fallen asleep while sitting upright. Again. Morning has begun to creep through the room's window—the sky bleeds from a peacock blue to a peacock green.

There's still so much for them to do. Report to Thomson and Thompson. Track Rastapopoulus. Taste victory. Return to Marlinspike. Walk the grounds. He'll write an article, the Captain will bluster and blow at something. They'll relax until the next time they feel the old thrill calling them away.

People die every day; but the Captain won't die this day, or the next, or for a good long while. He can't. There is too much for them to do TOGETHER.

Other people die, but the Captain CAN'T--

"Won't. Won't."

There's a hand on his head; it strokes his hair roughly, lethargically. He'd fallen asleep again; this time, his arms cradled his head as they rest on the bed's edge. From the floor, Snowy whines.

Tintin finds himself disoriented. The hand falls away as he lifts his head.

"Won't," the Captain repeats. It's a rasp and a whisper from a half-awake dream. "Too…much still. Watchin' you'se a …life's time..."

Tintin takes hold of the heavy hand, and squeezes it. The Captain snorts, and slips under once more. Tintin lets go of a breath he won't admit to holding, and the tension melts from his sore body.

The Captain's asleep once more, but he'll be back.

Tintin knows it.


End file.
